


Wish Upon a Fishing Line

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Anxiety ate at Noct's heart. He didn't feel good, he said to Ignis, lying to escape the pressure of the royal gala in his honor. He couldn't do it this year, couldn't bear it this year, and he couldn't feel less guilty about it. Not when his father stood there next to him, grinned, and said, "No son of mine will be a voice of reason about getting into trouble."
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 20
Kudos: 57





	Wish Upon a Fishing Line

**Author's Note:**

> I return from my inadvertent fanfic vacation to honor my son's birthday with his actual parent! I wasn't sure what I was going to write for Noct's birthday, but I knew I didn't want to miss it. None of my ships were jumping out at me, so I decided to go with something neutral. And I've sorely missed my sassy King Regis spoiling his son :')

“I just don’t feel that great.”

Once upon a time, that was all it would take to get out of something he didn’t want to do. When he was young, nobody questioned it. Excuses were made for him, sympathies were forthcoming, and he didn’t need to worry about whatever event he was missing. Once he got older – and thereby, less full of wide-eyed, guilt-tripping innocence – the questions were more copious than the concerns.

“Whatever do you mean?” Ignis asked through the phone. “Are you ill? Are you _hurt_ , did something happen?”

At least with Ignis, the questions came from a place of concern. Noctis appreciated that he worried about him, but he also wished that he could just accept the excuse without the fifth degree sometimes.

“It’s nothing like that, Specs. I just… don’t feel up to it.”

He knew that was a weak answer – he should have just lied and pretended he came down with something. But he’d learned very early on in their friendship that lying to Ignis about his health was an act of futility. Noctis didn’t know what would have made him feel worse: lying to Ignis and him knowing it, or having Ignis think he was just being lazy and ungrateful by saying he “just didn’t feel like it.”

It was his birthday after all. Of all the things he should “feel like” celebrating, this shouldn’t have been one Ignis needed to persuade him into.

“Are you quite certain, Noct?” Ignis asked, one last time, and Noct knew it was purely after his own well-being, not a last ditch effort to salvage the grand event prepared in his honor.

“Yeah. Sorry, Specs.”

“Don’t apologize. My only hope is that you feel well again soon. I’ll check on you later.”

He hung up before Noctis could insist against it. He sighed, letting the phone drop into his lap. His pulse skipped with guilt, but it wasn’t enough to unwind the knots of anxiety in his guts.

“Are our plans about to be waylaid by your scrupulous friend?”

“Nah. By the time anyone catches on, we should be miles from here.”

“Then why do you look so worried, son?” Regis chuckled.

“I’m not worried about getting caught,” Noctis mumbled, ducking his head and itching his hair. “I just… guess… I feel bad.”

Regis clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in understanding. He considered Noct’s attack of conscience for a moment, then placed a wizened hand on his shoulder and said, “No son of a mine will be a voice of reason. At least, not when it comes to getting into trouble.”

Any lingering guilt Noctis might have felt for bailing on the well-laid plans of the Citadel promptly vanished when he felt the involuntary tug of his own smile at the corners of his mouth. Sure, he felt a little bad about spinning a tale for Ignis, but he was fairly certain Ignis had figured it out the second Noctis picked up the phone. And if he wasn’t about to make a big deal out of it, Noctis wouldn’t either. Besides, getting to spend the day out with his dad was so worth the scandal of not showing up to his own birthday party.

“Now, Noct,” Regis was saying, scrutinizing the overgrown tunnel at the edge of the Citadel gardens. “I realize our options are fairly limited, but do have mercy on your ailing father.”

Noctis snorted at the dramatics, rolling his eyes. While he’d prefaced their escape plans by explaining how he used to crawl through this tunnel when he was child, he’d never intended to torture either of them by scraping through it now. He called his Engine Blade from the Armiger in a quick, crystal glint.

“We’re magic, Dad,” he said with intent.

Regis lifted his brow and nodded, exhaling a long “aahh,” as if he’d forgotten and suddenly remembered. He drew an old sword of his own from the armiger, feigning surprise when the weathered hilt fell into his practiced had.

“Would you look at that?” he said, in self-aggrandizing shock. “I bet I know how to use it, too.”

Noctis snickered, bracing a hand against his father’s shoulders. “Hold onto me anyway,” he advised him. “Just in case you got rusty in your ‘old age.’”

“I resent that remark.”

Nevertheless, Regis latched onto Noct’s shoulder in turn. They each held on tight, took one unifying breath then, warped over the wall. Though Noctis had told Regis to hold onto him, rushing through that crystalline void, he found himself holding onto his father more than he did him. It reminded him of birthdays past, of clinging to his father’s side and being held up by his arms, trusting his strength not to let him fall. There were days now, as he’d gotten older, where he sometimes lost faith in that strength, but then there were days like today, where he was reminded that any doubts he had about his father’s strength were mere fantasy. The reality that he, and so many people across the world forgot, was that Regis had been stronger than him for much longer than him, and just because Noctis was growing a year older, didn’t mean his father grew weaker. Not in the ways that it mattered.

They wouldn’t be warping across the rooftops to avoid being recognized in the street or anything, but they could abuse just enough of their magic to make it to Meridian Park unmolested. It was the end of summer in Insomnia, which meant the city was growing quieter, just before it swelled up again for the fall season. The beaches by the lakes within the parks were empty, all of the commercial trappings for vacationers just about finished being put away. The bikini-clad sunbathers and snorkeling kids in swim trunks all checked out of the hotels for the summer and gone home.

The lake was free for fisherman again. When they arrived, Noct saw a few little boats out in the middle of the lake, and some solitary anglers with their poles in the sand along the dimpled beaches. If they recognized the Crown Prince and King of Lucis setting up on the dock, they didn’t approach them. This was Noct’s kind of crowd, his kind of place. Out here, celebrity didn’t matter. The most exciting part of casting a fishing line was that he got to cast himself into the role of just the fisherman. The only thing that earned you acclaim among these people was the length of the bass you caught.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” Regis said, surveying the lake surface as Noct pulled all their equipment from his Armiger – a misuse, Ignis had told him; innovation, Noctis had argued.

“It’ll be like riding a bike.”

“Long time since I’ve done that, too.”

It didn’t take long to acclimate him to it. Noctis prepped the rods, applying the bait and lures, and then they both cast off. Noct had brought a chair for Regis to sit in if he got tired, but his father seemed determined to match his son today. He stood taller when he wasn’t weighed down by the raiment of royalty, loose and casual in every day clothes Noct had a feeling he might have ordered specifically for this day – he didn’t recognize a single one of them.

“Sure this is alright?” Noctis asked, tentatively. “We’re not gonna head home later and find the place on fire without us, are we?”

“If it is, there’s a committee for that.”

“There is not,” Noctis chuckled, then stopped when Regis gave him a very pointed look. “There is _not._ ”

“If ever there was a committee for the Citadel, it’s one for a contingency.”

“There’s also, you know, the city fire department.”

“You should remind them of that when you’re king,” Regis laughed.

Noctis knew that he’d just meant it lightly, but still, Noctis bit the inside of his lip and turned back to the crystalline lake surface. The water glinted like crystal magic in the midday sun, reminding him that the same power which gave his father the strength to hold him through a warp strike also made him weaker every day. Birthdays didn’t hold the same giddy fascination for Noctis anymore, not because he’d grown cynical, but because they signified that the future was racing faster and faster to catch him. And every year, he felt less and less ready to face it.

He couldn’t stand the thought of it this year, attending the great, Citadel gala in his honor. He couldn’t find the strength to face all those strangers, looking at him so expectantly – looking for the future king, not the present birthday boy. He knew that the staff at the Citadel worked hard to plan these things, and he’d forever feel guilty that it would all go to waste, but it was never what he wanted. And on his birthday, of all days, king or no king, wasn’t he entitled to just one little thing he wished for?

Regis had seemed to think so, agreeing wholeheartedly to the espionage of breaking out of the Citadel for a fishing rendezvous. It was hard for Noctis to keep feeling guilty once it was just the two of them, royal raiment off, Citadel spies far behind, and a lake full of fish ahead.

“Don’t worry,” Regis assured him. “The kingdom will survive one day without us.”

“Do they know that?”

“They’re about to.”

Noctis didn’t know if he really meant that, or if Regis was just indulging him today by leaving any disdain for the Citadel unfiltered. Whatever the case, he appreciated it, though he didn’t get to for long. Just then, his father’s line pulled taut, catching them both by surprise.

“Oh. Well then,” Regis said, matter-of-factly, staring down at his hands as he braced for the inevitable.

The line gave a harsh yank, just as Noctis grabbed Regis around the waist to give him some extra support. Whatever was on the line was big, he could tell by the bow of the rod as the water frothed in the distance. He was a little nervous that one good jerk might dislocate his dad’s shoulder, but Regis stood resolutely against the strain, muttering some elegant curses very unbecoming of a king beneath his breath.

“If it’s too much, just let it go,” Noctis advised, listing forward, then planting his feet to pull back.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday, I’m your father, and I owe you a present.”

“Self-preservation would be a nice gift.”

“That’s too boring for a man of your age.”

“Dad…” Noctis warned him, though it lost its seriousness when it came out as a laugh.

The fish on the line would not give up. It had them both dragged to the edge of the dock, listing forward and straining backwards, reel screeching as Regis tried to drag it in. Ripples ran rampant across the water’s surface, obscuring their aquatic opponent. Noctis couldn’t imagine what it was, in this commercial little lake where fish didn’t grow past a certain size. He was intrigued, but also terrified that Regis’s stubbornness was going to get him hurt.

His father pursed his lips and creased his brows and gave the rod one more, rough reel in, gaining some line back. Then, answering his determination with some spite of its own, the unseen fish tugged, hard, and the fishing line _snapped._ The sudden loss of the tension sent both father and son careening face first into the water.

It wasn’t deep beneath the dock, but Noctis still came up sputtering. When he stood, the water came up to his hips, and he had to wade out a little farther to find his dad. He’d panicked the second he felt the slap of the water, calling for Regis once he stopped coughing it back up. Fortunately, his father came sputtering up next to him not a moment later, smoothing back his silver hair as if the fact it was out of place was the most annoying part of being in the water.

“Dad!” Noctis exhaled, splashing over to help him up. “Are you alright?”

“Of course not,” Regis pouted, accepting Noct’s hand when it was offered. “I’ve been demoralized by a _fish_. It would seem there’s still one demographic in Lucis I hold no dominion over.”

Noctis couldn’t help but laugh, mostly out of relief. His father was fine – bedraggled and begrudging, but unhurt. He might have walked a little more stiffly for the next few days to come, but at least he knew that had nothing to do with his being weakened by the weight of the crown. No, that limp would be from the strength it took to grant his son this one wish. To spend a little time with his dad on his birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate feedback, please leave a comment to let me know you enjoyed!


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